


Bacon Thong Surprise

by Elizabeth1985



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bacon, Crack, Dirty Talk, GISHWHES, I don't even know what to tag this as, M/M, Naked Misha, bacon thong, food foreplay, kind of, mention of Bottom!misha, misha has a surprise, plus bacon, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth1985/pseuds/Elizabeth1985
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen has walked in on a lot of strange things. Between Jared’s childish antics, Danneel’s dirty humour, and Misha being… well<i>Misha</i>, he’s pretty immune to most of it after all these years. But then today happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bacon Thong Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what was wrong with my brain when I wrote this. But enjoy... 
> 
> Thank you to [Tennyo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo) for being my awesome beta on this cracky wonder.

Jensen has walked in on a lot of strange things. Between Jared’s childish antics, Danneel’s dirty humour, and Misha being… well _Misha_ , he’s pretty immune to most of it after all these years.

But then today happened.

No words rise up on his tongue, because there’s nothing in the English language that could serve well enough to explain exactly what he’s seeing.

It _has_ to be a GISH thing, right?

“Mish?” The WTF is very clear in his tone.

Innocent-looking blue eyes shift over to him and a piece of bacon falls to the floor with a flat slap. “Um,” Misha compresses his lips and glances up—as if the ceiling might hold some better explanation than what he’s about to offer.

“This is a GISH thing right? I mean… you’ve got,” Jensen pauses and scrunches his face in disgust, “you’ve got bacon dangling from behind your sac dude.”

Twisting his lips to the side, Misha bends over (ass naked, mind you) and delicately pinches the strip of bacon and tries to pull it up and back to settle between his buttcheeks.

Jensen, again, has no words. “Oh god, promise me this isn’t… like… _for me?_ ” With a shudder he remembers the time Mish tried to serve sushi on himself in their first Vancouver apartment. Man, what a way to find out you're allergic to swordfish.

How the fuck do you explain to the ER nurse that your “friend” has a swelling rash on their hip because of sushi-related foreplay?

Basically ignoring him, Misha ties the vertical ass floss of bacon to the multitude of bacon strips he’s designed as a belt. After that interesting procedure is complete, Misha stands straight and smiles at him. Smiles as if everything is just hunky-dory and he’s not standing in the middle of the living room naked with the exception of bacon.

None of which is covering his cock.

Finally, the bacon-wearing man speaks. “It started as a gish thing, but then”—Misha laughs—“I got a little carried away with an idea and I knew you were coming home and I just couldn’t help myself.” Ending the sentence, Misha giggles and grabs another piece of slimy, uncooked meat from the coffee table and starts inspecting his flaccid junk… clearly determining the best way to “cover” it.

“I don’t even—“ Jensen falls short on any kind of response. “ _Bacon?_ ”

Misha hums. “It bonds well together. Better than cheese by a long shot! Especially because we have the AC on. Oh—“ Twisting, Misha squints and then widens his stance. “Yup. I think there’s bacon grease in my ass.”

“F-Y-I,” mentions Jensen, “there are _way_ better things you could be doing with your ass right now. Don’t get me wrong, Mish, I love coming home to a man wearing a cock-out bacon thong—I do, as much as the next guy. But maybe we could just… strip you down“—he laughs and Misha giggles—“and maybe get rid of the meat juice on ya and you know, have some traditional non-food related sex?”

Without missing a beat, Misha blurts, “Well that’s boring. Come on, help me cover my dick in bacon!”

Jensen sighs. Long and loud, and rubs his face with his palm. “So you know… this is not a turn on.” Reluctantly, he stomps across the room and gets close enough to see the bacon-belt is indeed a braided bacon-belt.

He’s actually kind of impressed. Misha notices the soft, pleased grin. “Tis the latest in Pigstrrrrip fassssionne,” Misha purrs in a random _whatever-the-fuck_ accent. God almighty, the rolling r’s really do him in.

Puffing out an exhale, Jensen bends over and picks up a slimy piece of bacon from the dish on the table. He holds it up between them. First, he looks Misha in the face and then down to his cock. And then finally, back at the piece of bacon.

“You know,” he says offhandedly, “if I get you hard we could just make a bacon tent and all this would be way easier.”

“Now you’re thinking!” Misha’s bright blue eyes widen with excitement, and then his mirth levels out. “Although, it’d be impossible to keep it up. No, no,” he shakes his head, “it needs to be something that works with my current situation.”

Jensen smirks. Current situations can always be altered, he thinks. Lowering the piece in his hand, Jensen tucks it into the belt and lets his fingers skim down the curved length of Misha’s dick. For a fleeting moment, Misha lets him touch unhindered. But soon enough Jensen’s sinful hand is slapped away.

“My baconed ass is not up for use at the moment, thank you very much,” Misha says in the snootiest voice ever. “I’m working on a project.”

Laughing, Jensen gives up. “Alright. Fine. Let’s design you the best looking bacon underwear on the planet. Come on, widen your legs and give me some damn room.” Jensen grabs several pieces of bacon from the table and squats nice and low.

Face-to-face with his “friend’s” junk, he debates the ultimate way of winding the bacon around the shaft. Hmmm, maybe he’ll leave the tip out for fun. “When this is done, I’m taking pictures and sending them to your wife.”

“Fine with me. I send your wife tons of pics of you in precarious situations.”

Um. What?

Looking up, his hand in the midst of tying meat around his lover’s meat, Jensen throws out a look of curious concern. “You do what now?”

Grinning, Misha bites his lip. “What else do you think I’m doing when I tie you up and blindfold you.”

Jensen shakes his head. “You fucker.”

“You love it.”

Dammit. He does. He _sooo_ does. Misha has done a spectacular job of weirding him up over the last few years. Between Mish and Danneel’s efforts, Jensen can no longer classify himself as “normal” when it comes to sex.

Like, fuck... Here he is, kind of getting turned on from the sole act of covering his man’s half-hard dick in bacon. What in God’s name is wrong with him. And Jesus, but it is _hard_ to cover up a growing erection.

Especially when it won’t fucking stay still.

“Stop movin’ it,” he complains.

Misha mumbles something, and then groans. “Sorry,” he replies weakly. “You’re touching me. And the bacon’s all slippery and weirdly arousing.”

To try and counter Misha’s reactions, Jensen pinches his muscular thighs. After an ‘ _ow_ ’ from above, Jensen says tiredly, “Listen, do you want a bacon thong or do you want to have sex—’cause you’re getting one or the other Mish, not both.”

Whining low in his throat, Misha curls his fingers into fists. “That’s unfair. Bacon thong and _then_ sex.”

“Oh no, after this I’m taking exactly one hundred pictures, and then you’re going to shower and I’m falling asleep on the couch to reruns of Grey’s Anatomy.” He huffs and tries to squash Misha’s partial stiffy and lay bacon over it and across like a poorly weaved blanket. “I’m tired and so you’re getting one hour of effort out of me. Choose wisely.”

Pausing his sex-part covering tasks, he looks up and feels the strain in his knees from being crouched. Eyes set low, Misha unleashes his best defense; an unadulterated look of coy arousal. It always makes Jensen’s stomach tighten.

“Don’t,” he threatens.

“You do this… and then I’ll do _all_ the work. Whatever you want… however you want… _wherever you want._ ”

Congrats, he’s speechless for the third time in twenty minutes. _Fuck_. “Making some pretty big promises there, Mish.”

“You know I can deliver.”

Oh God, it’s true—whatever wild fantasies Jensen’s ever thought of, whatever complicated positions he’s seen and wanted to try—Misha has _always_ , without question or hesitation, been up for it. It’s just too good to pass up. And yeah, he’s tired but he can make coffee. And he has every season of Grey’s on DVD, so really… there’s no reason not to give in to Misha.

He’ll cave in the end anyway. Best to give it up now, it’ll save him the energy. But he sure as shit isn’t going easy on Mish—Oh no he is not.

“You have yourself a deal, Dmitri. After this bacon fiasco is over… I want you in a _lacy_ thong (after a shower of course)… with… with…” Jensen’s imagination runs wild and a weird image pops into his head. His smiles, “yeah, a lacy thong… with suspenders! And a fucking bow tie—don’t ask! And you’re gonna ride me _while_ I watch Grey’s and then, after we’ve likely added another come stain to the couch… I want you to scratch my head until I fall asleep in your lap.”

So. There. Jensen wins!

Misha smirks and shakes his head. But the only thing he says in return is, “Thong. Suspenders. Bowtie.”

Shameless, Jensen throws him a look. “Yes, Mr. Judgey wearing a bacon thong, that is what I would like. So sue me. You and Danneel have weirded the shit out of me, so don’t get all flustered when you don’t like what you’ve created.”

Features softening with love, Misha reaches out and cradles his face. “Oh I like it,” he says smoothly. “In fact, I love it.”

With a heavy eye-roll, Jensen gripes, “Yeah, yeah,” and gets back to the task at hand.

Misha grabs his chin and forces his head back. All he does is stare down and wait for a better reply.

Seeing the dark heat in Misha’s blue gaze, Jensen blushes hard. “I love you too,” he replies with total sincerity and hint of sweet bitterness.

“That’s more like it. Now… let’s wrap me up in salty strips of dead animal and then I’ll fuck your brains out dressed like a slutty dapper gentleman from eighty years ago.”

Jensen nods firmly. “Deal.”

  
  



End file.
